Meridian
by hanako-kun
Summary: He falls; his exterior hardens and closes itself off to the rest. Like dividing himself from all with a fine, thin, continuously running line. To his dismay, she enters with hardly any effort. He struggles to keep his emotions at bay, keeping the line between them. Everything seems to keep them apart...just as any meridian would do. Loki/oc Lokixoc
1. Chapter 1

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter i_

* * *

"No, Loki." The All father had said, with that sickening melancholic tone of his, reflected all of his disappointment in him. That he had chosen _Thor _over _him _again, it was too much to bear.

That Odin had lied to him about his true origins that he had only been taken from that barren wasteland only on a whim raised under a packs of vicious after vicious lies, that the man he had called "father" all those years in his long existence never truly loved him at all, that even Frigga had joined in Odin's cruel deception, it had all piled up underneath his calm, cool and unaffected exterior, it had started to broaden the gap between him and his family.

That the burden of the throne had oh-so suddenly fallen to him to bear. The realm of Asgard at his palms, its people to guide as righteously as did Odin, and with Thor absent, no one had been there to support him like what the All father might have done if it were the god of thunder bearing the crown. He had to face it alone; it had been forced upon him when all he had ever wanted to be treated as Thor's equal.

And, as he had held onto Thor's hammer for dear life, he spoke with all his earnestness and sincerity. Tears had welled up in his eyes, and Thor looked with agony—but the All father had remained deafeningly silent. Yet-what good had it done him _then?_

"_I could have done it, father!" _

_:_

_:_

_:_

"_I could have done it!" _

_:_

_:_

_:_

"_**For you!"**_

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_:_

_:_

_:_

_:_

"_**For all of us!"**_

Realms slipped by him. The howling winds of the different worlds tossed him around; the tips of his fingers twitched with the feel of falling through the vast threads of time and space, nearly tearing a rip in the fabric of reality and be permanently lost to the universe in the dimension of nothingness.

Loki mustered all of his energy. Travel without the aid of the bifrost was long and painful. Of which of the nine realms he would land in, he knew not. He only wished that he wouldn't have landed in what might have been the half obliterated realm of Jotunheim.

With his knowledge of the arcane magic and the remaining energy he managed to muster, he cast a spell woven so finely into his being that it would protect him from any form of damage. However, he knew he wouldn't be able to maintain it for so long.

Wherever it was that his body chose to settle itself, he hoped his strength permitted him to maintain the spell until then.

And if not…then he had only hoped that the fall wouldn't be_ so _damaging.

Leave comments, if you have the time. Tell me how good, how bad, how horrible it is.

**Write me a review? (Even though there isn't that much to review on? Haha.)**

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**V**


	2. Chapter 2

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter ii_

* * *

It had been a great day overall, no problems during work, Anne had extraordinary fun even after it, and now, her mood was getting trampled all over with the steely hooves of the fickle weather.

She frowned. It had been so sunny in morning and afternoon, and yet, it still rained when night came. Grumbling, she stomped her chucks in every puddle that dare appeared on the walk back to her car.

_Splish, splish, splish, cursed rain, _She inwardly fumed, cursing the weather, and fumbling with the car keys in her coat pocket, and she doubled her inner swearing when she realized she had forgotten to put the car roof on. _Wet butts and wetter seats, great. _

She stopped just before a puddle on the sidewalk for a moment. Anne stared at the face in the dirty water, the girl's mouth hidden behind her favorite scarf. Giving a 'tch', she half-heartedly kicked at the reflection that once looked at her with narrowed crimson eyes.

Bounding off the corner, she observed with wry amusement that her convertible parked near the street lamp had obviously been turned into a mini swimming pool. She approached the car dejectedly—her butt had really been so wonderfully warm when she was working. Now, Anne would have to kiss the luxury goodbye.

Taking out her car keys, she played with the several key chains for a moment before selecting the key for the car door and opening said door with it.

The water practically came at her like how a wave would hit a beach-goer on one of those sunny days. The wave made her light-wash skinny jeans already feel tighter than it really was, also successfully drowning her chucks _again._ She sighed and tried shaking the water off her shoes, it made her already wet socks make her feet feel so…

"…_Nnnggh…."_

…gross. Blinking, she quickly scanned her surroundings. She pocketed her keys instinctively. _What the…?_

"…_nnggghh." _

Realizing the sound of painful groaning, Anne ducked behind her car's rear and checked each suspicious-looking nook and cranny she could see. Finding nothing, and yes, that was _nothing_, her breathing accelerated. Where was this could-be assailant of hers lurking?

Anne made a mad dash for her car door, and literally hopping in, she jacked in her keys in the ignition chamber and started the car before the rapist could even get to her.

As she was checking her mirrors, she could see, through the car mirror, _him. _His shadows moved from behind a bricked wall, it was apparent, through the shadow he cast, that his movements were sluggish and that he stumbled around in the alleyway, and then, Anne gasped.

He collapsed. _Thud, _the noise went when his body collided with the pavement. Now, out from the protection of his brick wall, Anne could see that his black hair had been slicked back, but now it looked disheveled, along with his clothing. The green cape that he wore—strangely enough, he still wore those—covered most of his body, except his arms that were splayed out on the pavement, his arms had something on them, over black long sleeves from where she could see it.

The wind was blowing, as if reacting to the events that had just occurred. It kissed her cheeks and treaded its fingers through her hair, whispering their sweet nothings in her sensitive ears, and after a single caress, blew over to where the man had collapsed. It blew upon his cape, tussling it in the air for a single moment, before permanently leaving, vanishing like a ghost.

Anne, now acting upon instinct, took her keys out of the ignition chamber, pocketed it, hopped out of her car and immediately came over to where he had collapsed, chucks now rapping against the rough pavement with its squeaks from its wetness, breathing sped up by a thousand times.

_Please don't be dead._

She crouched down, and her fingers hovered over his body, quivering for the first time in a long period, from the sheer cautiousness that she had on. She gently took his shoulders and rolled him over so she could see properly see him.

She was stunned by the sight.

His face, carved by angels, had this long, thin nose, thin pink lips, high cheekbones, and a forehead that accentuated his jet-black raven hair. Although wearing black armor, gilded and lined with gold and lustrous shards of silver, two circular plates of metal studded on where his green cape—that suspiciously resembled drapery—connected with his strange clothes, he was _**gorgeous**_, her jaw nearly unhinged itself. Like a prince of the renaissance era from out of the blue.

But he was barely breathing…she needed to focus on that more.

"Hello?" She asked, voice dripping with concern for this stranger, "Can you hear me?"

Then, his lips moved. "Yes," He croaked, tone drenched in pain. Yet, it was still enough for Anne to distinguish the accent that he had, was somewhat English.

She pursed her lips. Murmuring a quick _"hold on for a second,"_, she ripped open her jacket to reach her hand in for her breast pocket, which contained her cell phone. She grabbed the sleek, silver camera phone and flipped it open. "I'm going to get you an ambulance, so stay put, please."

She speedily dialed 911. But before she could even raise the phone up to her ear, a hand, presumably _his _hand, with long, slender, and pale fingers had grabbed her wrist, and painfully so.

Anne stared at him incredulously, but she quickly wiped that expression off her face upon seeing his. His face, which was contorted in pain, eyes lidded with excessive force, his thin lips moved slowly to whisper a coarse, commanding, "Don't."

She jabbed her thumb at the button on her keypad with the picture of a red telephone, and flipped her phone closed. She closed her eyes. "How am I supposed to help you if you refuse my help?" She asked, simply enough, not irritated, but with a calm tone and a serene smile. Here she was, out on the street when he had collapsed, now by his side, generously offering her help, and yet he had so openly rejected said help.

Opening her eyes, she was greeted by icy, blue ones, which vaguely reminded her of an extremely diluted sky blue.

They were beautiful, but had shown so much emotional pain in its depths, it made her heart bleed.

"Don't." He whispered again, now more forceful in his tone, his icy blue eyes glaring at her. Her breath nearly hitched in the sudden shift of emotion.

Anne furrowed her brows. "Let me repeat that," She gave one smooth breath. "How am I supposed to help you then?"

The stranger merely closed his eyes, and breathing deeply, he said, "Just do. Please. I beg you..." with his tone so pleading, and so hurt, it was nearly impossible to reject his plea.

And being the kind of human Anne was, she took him in her arms and lifted his upper body off the ground slowly and gently. When he was properly upright, albeit still having trouble with his breathing, she whispered a gentle, _"Okay."_.

Not trying to doubt her sanity right then, Anne, with much difficulty but still being able to do so, helped the man stand upright, and walk him over—although more like drag—to where her car was. She stopped right in front of the car door to the passenger seats, and tried as careful as possible to lower him into them, and her strength, thankfully, didn't fail.

Having successfully placed him in the back seats, with his feet only slightly sticking out from the car (for he was long, she had noticed), she gave one last glance at him, who looked _almost _peaceful in the position, if it weren't for the scrunching of his nose and tight screwing of his eyes.

Anne hopped in the driver's seat, not bothering to properly open the doors and such; she jacked in her car keys once again in its ignition chamber.

Looking through the car mirror, out of her paranoia, she saw that he was still in the same position and delirious with the weight of her deeds, she backed the car up smoothly, and drove.

The ride to her home was eerily silent. The man, as if not daring to move an inch, save for the slight swaying of his hair and cape from the sea wind that blew by.

Hopefully, he was still breathing by the time she had arrived on the top of her hill where her house was curiously perched, for _accidentally _bringing home a dead corpse that she had happened to pick up on the street did not seem like an appealing idea to her.

Her house, as convenient and great as it was on sunny, breezy days, made quite the task of getting to it when it was rainy. Built on top of a hill, the title of "house on the cliff by the sea" perfectly fit its description. When its lights were open during the night, it served as a beacon for all fishing ships nearing Rockport, being the highest point in the sea-town aside from the lighthouse.

Anne drove her car up the road winding the hill, the sea waves crashing down noisily on the rocks by the side railings. It looked like there was a storm coming.

Once she finally reached her garage, she switched the car off, taking the keys and twirling it with the key ring in her index finger. She jumped over the car door, glancing at the man in her car, as strange as it was.

She nearly grumbled. He had fallen asleep. She could hear it—the faint inhaling and exhaling that passed through his thin nose, barely audible, but her sensitive hearing could still pick up.

Anne walked off, ascended up the steps to her elevated porch, swiped her feet briefly on the door mat and picked the right key to open the door, leave it on the doorknob with the door ajar, and get to bringing the man in.

And she did—with much difficulty, almost dropping him on the steps and bumping his precious head on the doorframe, she managed to carefully (haphazardly) place (throw) him on her couch.

She sighed. Stepping away from the couch, she sat on floor behind the coffee table in front of the couch on where he slept. She pushed her lips into a fine, thin line, seemingly nervous enough, considering her recent actions.

_One_, she had found a man on the street, where he begged for her help.

_Two_, she actually **agreed**to do so.

_Three_, now, he was inside her home. He was _actually _inside her home. Her place of sacred sanctuary. Her paradise of comfort and ease.

Anne gulped. _I hope I don't regret this.._

She stared at him, sleeping on her couch, face no longer seeming painful, now peaceful. He didn't displace himself, not even a periodical rise of his chest was detected—like he wasn't breathing. Unmoving, it was what.

Rising from her position, she walked past the dining table with its four chairs for the friends she never had, nor had she ever met yet, going straight to the kitchen area with its cream, marble countertops and such.

She filled a casserole with a thermos-full of last week's soup, turned up the heat, and waited patiently for it to heat.

She leaned on the counter and fidgeted nervously, the unmoving man on the couch in view. Her gaze permanently locked itself on him, still, murmuring swift, pleading nothings of her increasing nervousness to herself.

_Tell me I didn't make a mistake. _

He, like a statue, like in a complete state of stasis, gave her waves of unease. She questioned herself if the effects of her actions dawned itself in her mind yet.

_Tell me I wouldn't regret this._

Opting for a quick change of clothes, she walked over to the doorway connecting the main hallway in her house and the living room. And stopping by the side of said doorway, her hand instinctively shot up to grasp the mahogany wood frame—Anne gave one quick look behind her shoulder, too see him. He who was still in his state of comatose.

_Tell me I was right to do this._

**. : { } : . **

**.: :.**

_**PLEASE READ THIS, VERY IMPORTANT, LOVELY, DEAR READERS**__! _

Just a heads up on you guys, I created Anne the way she is because I wanted to create a character that would differ from all of the other characters in this ship.

I wanted her to be unique, descript, and very distinct. Someone that would be remembered very much in this fandom, (I've read almost all of the stories with this ship and I've very professionally only remembered _one _original character's name) like how I remembered _**Ellie **_from the fic _**Shiver, **_by _**Bluebird Blues**_. (I suggest you guys read it, because it's absolutely _wonderful._) I just wanted a new breed of OC, that's all.

So, if you guys have a problem with the realistic aspects of our dear _**Anne, **_please blame my horrible writer's feels.

Questions shall be entertained on my tumblr, _**sophronias**__dot__**tumblr**__dot__**com**_.

Adieu! See you guys next week.

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**V**


	3. Chapter 3

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter iii_

After a change of clothes and a little soup, Anne had gone straight to bed that night with uncertainty nibbling at her insides.

Morning came.

Rising from her slumber, she awoke with grogginess. Her bed, located at the center of the bedroom, its headboard directly below the window, the glass sounding from the violent attacks of the horrid weather loudly rapping against the glass. Anne rubbed at her eyes.

She yawned and hefted her feet off the edge of the queen-sized bed, toes barely touching the floorboards. She stood up with much difficulty and sloppily dragged herself to the bedroom door to exit the room and get to the bathroom for a quick, hot shower in the morning.

Grabbing the doorknob, she twisted it to get the wicked contraption open, proceeding to down the hallway, then to the bathroom.

After washing herself, Anne descended down the staircase and upon passing through the doorway leading to the living room, she stopped and gawked at the man, static in his position, unmoving, it looked like he hadn't displaced an inch during the last night she brought him in.

"What the hell," She murmured under her breath, trying her best to keep her thoughts off the statue of a man sleeping in her living room, she bounded off to the kitchen with slight awkwardness.

She mechanically proceeded to her morning ritual of preparing a mug of hot coffee and a plate of breakfast for herself.

Upon deliberation, she was currently holding a chocolate brown mug in one hand, a green mug in the other, leaning towards the marble countertop, right before her coffee maker.

_Should I…?_

She glanced towards the man in her living room.

_He could wake up any time now. Maybe I should._

Anne set the coffee maker and turned to the refrigerator, and got out the appropriate ingredients for breakfast, setting out to start on breakfast for two.

She laughed inwardly. _I'm actually going to do this, aren't I?_

After a hearty breakfast, (this consisted of buttered toast, bacon and eggs, and a great mug of coffee) Anne placed the other mug and plate full of home-cooking on the table carefully, making sure to properly set out the correct silverware with the napkins and such.

She stood at the side of the table with her flustered expression, awkwardly having her lips at a tight, thin line at the setting she had just prepared.

She had never had such visitors in her home before. Even though it wasn't technically a "visitor" that she was having, it was strange to have a person in her otherwise solitary confinement, she guessed.

It felt quite _different_ to have someone with her, as strange as the circumstances were. She meant it in a different _good _kind of way.

Even though the nervousness in her inner self had ebbed away piece by piece while cooking the breakfast plate for him, although there were still her demons telling her at the farthest portions of her mind that this was a generally _bad _thing to do, her humanist side always told her otherwise.

Helping other people in their time of need was good, wasn't it?

Sighing, Anne paced away in her kitchen, weighing the pros and cons of such actions in her mind, with her quiet footsteps so not as to wake _him. _

There was anxiety, there was nervousness, and there was fear of the unknown of what exactly could _he _do to _her_.

Yet, as she wiped her hands on a hand towel dangling by a hook drilled in one of the cabinets, and the view from cliff under her command, something told her he wasn't as bad as she thought he was.

She briefly glanced over her shoulder again, and _his _face came in view.

Thin lips, thin nose, high cheekbones, jet-black hair. And the eyes that stared at her once, the icy-blue crystals that hid in those depths.

She questioned herself, was that the gorgeous face of a criminal?

And the tone that he used, regal, commanding, and English. His countenance exuded this certain superiority, and the ambience he created was somewhat preternatural. Like he was something specifically _not _of this world.

Added the facts that he wore a cape and armor, it only seemed to prove her theory that he was _quite _the unique man. **Not **non-descript, but absolutely different. As if he belonged to his own specific class of higher royalty.

Anne looked towards the sky outside of her window. Gray and gloomy, it had been raining hard, she could hear the sound of the waves crashing on the rocky bottom of where her house was perched. Her predictions of an oncoming storm could be nothing else but true by then.

She blinked. Would the storm have anything to do with him?

_Of course not, _She chastised stupidly. As if he had the power to control the weather now.

She folded her arms and walked out of the room through the doorway, sparing one glance towards the sleeping man on the couch along the way. She ascended up the stairs, peering at both sides of the narrow hallway of the upper floor before entering a room at the end of said hall, opposite that of the bathroom.

It was a room for relaxation. Where bookcases filled with books covering a myriad of topics covered the walls, where a chocolate brown colored carpet grounded the floor, with several bean bags scattered on top of it, and a warm colored peachy-orange piano placed itself in the corner.

Anne played the piano every morning, while reciting a few paragraphs from her favorite books as a part of her daily rituals. It was relaxing, not to mention stress relieving, considering the events that had gone on in the past day.

Settling down on the small bench, opening the piano cover to grace herself with the sight of the monochromatic playing-keys, she reached her hand in the hand-woven basket to her right to fish out her favorite book, and as she played her little tune, she read in her soft tone;

'She felt a great deal of good will towards him. In spite of the mischief of his attentions, she owed him gratitude and regard, perhaps, compassion.

She could not help thinking much of the extraordinary circumstances attending their acquaintance, of the right of which he seemed to have to interest her, by everything in his situation, by his own sentiments, by his early prepossession.

It was altogether very extraordinary; flattering, but painful. There was much to regret.

How she might have felt had there been no Captain Wentworth in the case was not worth inquiry; for there was a Captain Wentworth; and be the conclusion good or bad,

her affection would be his forever. Their union, she believed, could not divide her more from other men than their final separation—'

There had been a brief grunt, and the sound of low, footsteps had been heard by her from the hallway. Upon the circumstances of being interrupted, Anne found herself slowly lifting her fingers off the piano keys.

Her breathing tripled in its speed. Her heart pounded endlessly, threatening to spew itself out of her mouth. Finally deciding to meet who she doomed it was _not _to be, she turned.

And she was greeted by the towering figure of the man she had so good-naturedly helped in the last night, with the sensuous curve of his lips into a bright, upturned, bordering malicious smile, his eyes twinkled, and with a swift breath, he bode in his unique tone of voice, "Hello."

She nearly gasped.

**. : { } : .**

**. : hanako : . **

And Loki awakens. This chapter was made short for the purpose of conveying hidden messages…

The chapter name is named so because we explore on some of the things Anne typically does on a day.

_By the way, some people have been asking me what Anne would look like. Hmm. I imagine her to be a little like __**Hester**__ from __**The Deep Blue Sea **__movie, their voices being somewhat identical and all (because Rachel Weisz's voice is sultry, and I love it). _

The paragraph (which I intentionally broke down) is actually from a **real book**, and it's also my favorite one. It's authored by **Jane Austen, **and if anyone could guess which book it is, there will be _**cookies**_ for you. Hopefully by the mentioning of a character's name, you'll be able to guess who it is. c:

Thank you to all those who reviewed, put this story on their favorites list, and put this story on alert too! **Thanks, you guys. It's very heart-warming to know that you guys took the time to do so. 3**

_**An early update for the people above…and hey, what's this? WOAH WOAH DOUBLE UPDATE!?**_

**So please review, love!**

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**v**


	4. Chapter 4

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter iv_

He remembered everything.

The massive draining of his energy once he entered through that portal which led to the realm of Midgard. The wretchedness of his situation. The cursing of what was once his family.

He was to land in the realm of mortals. Where Thor had met his darling woman.

Loki never held the midgardians with regard. They were brash, unthinking, who sought power to only better themselves. Destructive and unknowing, like Thor. Guided by a single mindset and thought selfishly in order to achieve their goals—the mortals were a disgusting race.

And he landed, painfully so, not in the desert in which Thor had first landed in, yet in a dark and narrow alleyway to one of Midgard's cities. The ground being extremely compact, it nearly broke his insides during the landing.

He struggled to get up, using the bricked walls to support himself; he stumbled slowly to the opening of the alleyway with his disfigured groans.

Yet the immense pain from his fall had interfered with his intentions—he collapsed, adding to the already killing pain.

Then, he heard them, footsteps, light and quick footsteps. Loki closed his eyes, oh how Heimdall would have laughed at him from Asgard, looking at his pain that and humiliation he deserved not.

He inwardly commanded the mortal that had chosen to roll him over, but he stopped himself.

This was Midgard, not the realm eternal. He knew no one. He knew not of the most of everything in this realm, for he closed his eyes upon humanity once he realized their foolishness.

He would need their dreaded help to survive.

_And it was help indeed that I had received._

He opened his eyes to see her with_ her_ eyes lidded, speaking in her soft tone, asking a question he didn't fully understand, but nevertheless, he only continued in gripping her wrist and gave an answer that was sufficient in telling her he needed her help without revealing the fact that he was the bitter prince of a kingdom he chose to banish himself in.

The mortal that had chosen to aid him was beautiful in her own aspects. He looked upon her. She who had skin paler than his, a small nose, ebony hair, rosy cheeks and a serene smile.

She opened her eyes, and the bloody, crimson orbs with its black irises stared at him. The eyes of **Laufey**, his damned _father._

And all he felt since then was hate. Biased hate, he knew, but he couldn't care less. She deserved his hate somehow. She was a mortal, after all. He didn't care if it was polite or if it was rude anymore, he just hated her for having those bloody eyes.

She had given an answer to his plea, and carried him to a midgardian device for transport. After a while on the device, she then had moved him onto a piece of furniture inside what he presumed to be her place of abode and stared at him, he felt it, so he remained unmoving in his state. He heard her dawdle, and leave.

It was night when that time had come, and he stood up from his previous position on the piece of furniture.

He could have left, he knew. Gone out of the house and be remembered as nothing more than a figment of the girl's twisted imagination.

But to where would he run off to, that was the question. Where, indeed? His powers had been considerably drained—not even a simple wag of the finger would induce some magical effect. Loki had to face it; he was practically stranded in the realm of Midgard with nothing to help him and no one to do so.

Yet he thought again. The girl. _She _was there. She had so generously given him her help even if he had asked with so much spite.

_How unnatural for such a selfish race,_ he thought quietly, choosing to look around the girl's home just to pass the time.

She must have had a motive for helping him. There was no way that she would just, help a random stranger that she had happened to come across on. The mortals weren't cut from that kind of fabric.

So he would stay, at least, until he could regenerate his powers. Once fully restored, he would just up and leave her. No problem in that.

And he explored. The girl, looked as if she was part of the working class, she lived alone, as far as he knew. He gathered that she was able to sustain herself, judging from the looks of the pieces of furniture, decorations, technological devices and such.

He found no traces of an existing family. He had ascended up the staircase, slipped past the room in which the girl was sleeping in, and entered a room at the end of the hall. If she did have someone with her, surely enough, she would have an extra bedroom for said person. But there wasn't, so it only proved his thoughts of her being a solitary creature.

Once closing the door, he looked about the room, found books, a strange device in the corner with strings made up of wood, and sacks full of little round things littered across the floor.

Midgard was an interesting realm, filled with problematic little mortals. They built and invented things to better themselves and satisfy their needs quicker; they were more technologically advanced compared to the remaining eight realms, however, that had only succeeded in making the mortals more stationary, increasing in size and overpopulating the little land that they had. It was pitiful and yet amusing to see them destroy themselves so easily.

The girl, he concluded, might have been of rather, an average intelligence, or perhaps even above average, based on the amount of books she had and the span of topics they covered (of which most he couldn't understand). She might have been born of normal lineage, not part of royalty, and neither belonging to the peasants.

There were a few boxes, stacked in one corner of the room, filled with journals of some sort, containing plenty of samples of her neat scripture. She wrote with a device using black ink, and her strokes were long and elegant—like how the Asgardian books were written.

She might also have been of a higher class of education, judging from the things she bothered to write about, but Loki cared less. She was a mortal. Mortals weren't important.

Bored with his findings, he exited the room and had gone down the staircase to examine the hallway.

There were paintings, some, her found to his taste, others not. He proceeded to the kitchen, where most of the technological devices midgard had were on display, then back to where he started, in the living room. Loki sat down. There wasn't much to see in Midgard, for him. And the girl, yes, her. He remembered correctly—did she not tell him her name? It was out of simple curiosity, and also for he had grown tired in calling her "girl" all the while in his head.

Perhaps he would know when the sun would rise over the horizon. Yes, he would. That was when most midgardians would awaken. So he went back to his original position—choosing to get some rest first, in hopes of refreshing himself the energy he needed.

When morning came, he first heard he stumble around in the upper floor, hearing her use a midgardian device for bathing, and coming down in the room to him.

To her, it would seem like he was still in his slumber. He knew. However, he had faked it. He was simply wondering on how she would have reacted him.

She mumbled something incoherent, and had gone to the kitchen. There were sounds of pacing, the fiddling of most likely pots and pans, and other strange sounds. She had paused somewhere in the middle of it, but he was far too distracted by the smell of the food she had just prepared.

He gulped. Come to think of it, Loki required the sustenance. His stomach being empty, he needed to eat.

So when the girl left the room to dawdle upstairs, he had gotten up and moved towards from where the smells came.

On the table, there was a mug of blackish-brown liquid, and a plate full of midgardian cooking. A note was attached to the side of the white plate, and written in her slender scrawl read,

_**Breakfast.**_

_**I hope it doesn't taste horrible..**_

He smiled a wicked smile. Such a modest thing. She knew not of the dangers he posed. So innocent. So young, he mocked inwardly. A worthy play toy for the demi-god. It was also such an adorable way of communication. Why not wake him up and tell him it was time for breakfast when you could cower and write it in notes.

To tell the truth, the plate wasn't horrible, and the drink tasted bittersweet, but left a lasting burst of energy in him. She was quite the talented cook, he observed wryly.

And now, it was time to see her. See if she would snap under his influence, and if possible, break her as much as he would wish—brewing mischief was his favorite type of hobby. He was the god of mischief, was he not? And crushing the hearts of naïve little girls was his favorite type of prey. Wind her in his web whole, unwind her a tangled, heap of a mess.

Stalking up the stairs like a predator, while hearing her play her little tunes on her music device, he listened. She was reciting something, he realized, in her soft tone of voice.

It felt like his spirit for mischief just broke upon hearing her. Who was he to make her miserable?

Right?

Doubting was quite the perilous task. He grunted beneath his breath, she was a mortal. Loki could do anything he pleased.

He twisted his lips into a smile, and entered the room with ease.

Seeing her shocked expression, his smile broadened, he said with a single smooth breath, "Hello."

He could see her nearly gasping for air. It made his insides writhe in pleasure, and he continued. "Did not see this coming, did you?"

And she answered, with a shaky voice that nearly cracked, compared to the elegant voice that recited paragraphs a few moments back, "Y-yes."

He stepped closer to her, intentionally making him seem more domineering. "You play beautifully." He complimented, seeing if she would fall to his charms.

Surprisingly, she had composed herself, cleared her anxiousness, all within a matter of seconds, she took a swift breath and looked at him directly in the eyes—and spoke, careful in her tone, her eyes trying to see through him. She answered, "Thank you."

Those bloody eyes again. He stopped himself from looking away, and searched for a way to strengthen his resolve of breaking her. Then, he thought, she dare challenge him?

He would then only see how well she would play with him. "Well then," He replied, tone sharp, eyes narrowing, but making sure that his friendly mask would still be on, "May I ask for the name of who my savior may be?"

She stood, and confided with cool civility, "Anne. Anne Weller." She tilted her head slightly, "And you are?"

Loki pursed his lips. "Loki Laufeyson." He remarked, tone nearly as cold as hers, only with slight wry amusement, seeing as Odin had always taught him to say 'Odinson', yet he no longer accepted that lie.

Brief confusion passed her eyes. Very minute, only detectable by his sharp eyes. This Anne was trying hard to appear unaffected in front of him, and he would commend her on that, she was doing a remarkable job.

"Where are you from, Mr. Laufeyson?" She asked, now taking on the position of a politely curious acquaintance, so quickly. There were a million questions in her eyes, but he knew he shouldn't even bother to address them. All business that he had with this mortal was because he needed the time to restore his powers back to its original glory.

However, he pressed that absolutely no one would call him by that cursed Jotun's name. "Please, use Loki instead." He icily put, trying to be civil at the same time.

"Okay, Loki, where are you from?" She inquired once again.

To end her foolish questioning, he supplied, "A land far away from here."

"Oh." She looked dissatisfied with his answer, but he couldn't possibly care less.

Rolling his eyes, he proceeded to continue in his plan, he stepped closer to her and smiled as kindly as he could, "By the way, I properly thank you for helping me in the last night. Also, thank you for letting me stay here."

There was a glow of red in her face, she sputtered under her breath, and she looked away. He nearly smiled in the irony of it all. Anne replied, "Yes, um. Anytime."

He grinned radiantly, "Then, would you mind letting me stay here to rest?"

She paused for a brief moment. He could tell, behind the flustered expression and modesty, she was seriously considering it.

She faced him, face clear of the red that once adorned it, she smiled wryly, one black brow arching, "How can I trust you?" It was a question masked with her innocent appearance, but he saw through her eyes, she was dead serious.

Oh, how he liked this toy. She who was so deceptive. She who was so clever. Oh how he liked this toy, indeed.

He put a hand over his frozen heart, "I do solemnly swear to not hurt you." He said, with all seriousness, to make it all the more believable.

He might have meant it, he might have not. He would figure it out soon enough.

There, she smiled genuinely, eyes trusting, how foolish. How she could trust him so easily right after a few fancy lies, he knew not. Such easy prey.

"Alright," She replied, "I hope you keep your promises, Loki."

Upon the mention of his name, he naturally smiled. She would get accustomed to him, and she would learn soon enough how much of a mistake she made in first getting acquainted with him. It was enough mischief to satisfy his thirst for trouble.

"And I do." He bowed, taking her hand in his, and gently kissing her knuckles. The glow on her face was far too pleasuring for his sights.

**. : { } : .**

**.: Hanako :. **

So you now know how unpredictable Loki's emotions are towards Anne. One minute hate, the other, adoration, the other, pity for being such easy prey..

I will guarantee you the fact that everything in this chapter would be accurately remembered, for there are key pieces of the story here.

**Enjoy, everybody. Hugs and kisses for the dear readers..3**

_**Hey, I just met you**_

_**:**_

_**And this is crazy**_

_**:**_

_**But I finished a chapter**_

_**:**_

_**(Finally with more Loki/Anne interactions..)**_

_**:**_

_**So review, maybe?**_

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_**v**_


	5. Chapter 5

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter v_

It was so strange. To have Loki in there with her. They had just finished one full conversation, he had even kissed her knuckles (which nobody ever did these days), and thrown a compliment at Anne.

"So, have you eaten yet?" She asked him awkwardly, slowly inching away from his tall figure, coming closer to the door of the room.

Loki continued in his grinning, "Yes, I have." Following her, he descended the staircase after her.

Anne smiled nervously, "How was it?"

"It was wonderful. Your cooking is marvelous." She blushed. He couldn't have meant it as a compliment. He must have been playing. He had to. No one complimented her so personally after just a few minutes of acquaintance.

No one did. And frankly, she was starting to get a little antsy about this _Loki Laufeyson. _Suspicions immediately arose when he first stepped in her personal boundary and started talking with her, so casually, as if nothing had happened, even the "thanks" he gave her seemed like nothing in his eyes. Yes, she had seen. They were the basis of her theories regarding him, and it only seemed like the logical option for all the humans.

For humans spun lies with their tongues and thought twisted thoughts with their head. The heart was the only reliable source of genuinely true feelings and it was through the eyes that people saw through to see.

Through those misty orbs, she felt so threatened whenever he looked upon her. Every move she did, every motion was followed by those eyes. Calculating and distant—masked heavily by his warm civility towards her.

Anne knew better than to easily give her wits up. She had a plan. She always did.

His character, which seemed too outlandish for an American, too old for a modern day Brit. As if he time travelled out from the Victorian era and decided to pay the 21st century a startling visit.

And when he inquired about his lodgings, if he could stay with her for a bit longer, she was certainly _not _expecting that.

It fell upon her acumen to decide the matter quickly, and she agreed.

Anne had her motives, she always did.

He wouldn't get the best of her, as outlandish as he was. She was merely curious, suspicious, and trying to protect herself all at the same time.

She needed to know if he was dangerous or not. If he posed a threat to her or not. She was willing to take the risk just to prove his innocence or his guilt.

For something told her that he wasn't the average man. He wasn't a man known. It was probable that no one knew him. If he did know someone, he wouldn't have gone to her for help.

Anne would continue with her actions and see this through—even if it meant having to play nursemaid for a homeless man. She just wanted to know what this man was all about. She would find out, she needed to protect herself.

_He's a stranger, Anne…could you really believe him?_

Doubts, doubts and more doubts. It was cluttering her mind more often.

There was this feeling of trust. Trust that had been planted into her bloody heart. Would she be able to trust his words?

Would he hurt her?

Right now, putting faith in her heart seemed so damned stupid. She reminded herself, that the heart, the emotions, all those feelings couldn't be relied upon. Far too vague and non-descript, they never really pointed the right way in decision making.

She knew that she thought that the heart was genuine in its choices, in its wants, but that single organ could be so easily fooled. Curse her hypocrisy, but trickery could easily accomplish fooling the heart.

Would she make the mistake of trusting her dear heart?

When she didn't respond to his compliment for a long while, Loki bore in mind that the girl he dealt with was clever. Not as clever as him, for all he knew, but clever.

He could imagine the cogs turning in her mind, the machines whirring in automation. She was quite the critical thinker, he mused.

So he decided to distract her from her thinking. "Do you live alone?" He asked, polite in his tone.

She turned one side, sparing a glance over her shoulder, they were both in the room where the piece of furniture he had slept on was in, she gave him a quick, small smile with her pale pink lips. "Yes."

Loki arched one elegant brow. "So you're able to sustain your needs with a type of house such as this by yourself?"

Reading the question in his eyes, she merely headed for the kitchen, "Yes. I have a job, so I can."

"I see." Sitting down on the furniture, he stroked his chin, "Why?"

He smiled as she remained stock still for a moment, before returning to her chores. There was a look of discomfort on her face that passed by. It was soon replaced by a solemn smile, eyes shielded from his sight. "Because I'm alone. That's why."

Feigning how sorry he was for causing her discomfort, he apologized quickly, "I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I meant no harm in asking, I assure you."

There was a splash and a sound to his ears, "It's alright."

"How old are you, may I ask?"

"Twenty-four."

He tutted, he was correct in the deductions of her young age. "You look different from the other..." Stopping himself from saying pest, or vermin, or mortal, he continued with, "...s. From the others."

She just looked at him from across the room, her crimson eyes twinkling, a smile on her face.

It may have reminded him of the Jotun king, however now, it was different. Like seeing those eyes again from a different perspective, Loki had honestly praised those eyes for their beauty in his mind.

Soft, and eyes that did not try to pry into his innermost secrets. Those were the eyes that would make him change his views.

"It's something I was born with, thank you very much." She said, with her newly introduced satire, slightly amused.

He smiled. A genuine smile. "And I welcome you. Very much so."

Loki admitted that it was nice to have a normal conversation every once in a while, with someone clever enough to properly keep up with him. Where talking included no biases and no hatred, he missed those kinds of talks. He seldom ever got to experience that type of conversation. He only had those when he talked with Thor and Frigga. But everything was different now.

He had a certain Anne Weller to talk to.

Anne sat in the opposite end of the furniture of which he sat on. She turned her head with that radiant smile of hers, "If it's okay, could I ask you some questions?"

He looked at her eyes where material curiosity was stored. There was a quick start in his mind.

Of course he'd have to lie. He was Loki, god of mischief, and of lies. It came naturally to him.

"Where would you like to start?"

She tapped her index finger on her chin, "How did you end up in that alleyway I found you in?"

_I banished myself from my family and fell through a portal in space. _"I was abandoned by my family."

She looked shocked for a moment, "Oh, I'm sorry if it caused you—"

"Don't apologize. You've done no harm." He lied, even though on the inside, he was slowly crumbling.

He was just a child that had wanted to make his father proud. To make Odin proud. Thor almost always outshined him in almost all ways. And in the ways where he stood superior to Thor, Odin closed his eyes upon. He always knew that Thor was his favorite. Frigga may have been equal in her love, but the All father wasn't.

He knew why. He had the blasted blood of a frost giant. Stolen from Jotunheim like a lost relic, taken upon a single whim. He was nothing more than a bounty soon to be collected; he would be exchanged for peace between Asgard and Jotunheim. But Thor had practically destroyed that peace, and it fell to him to protect the realm eternal.

Loki did what he thought was right. He didn't expect to be treated as a traitor and a villain.

And now, here he was, on Midgard, like how Thor once was. And he pondered wryly, would he meet someone like Jane Foster?

Someone…who would "love" him for who he was? Like how that woman "loved" Thor although he was brash and unthinking?

Would there be someone at all?

Broken out of his silent questioning by Anne, with her concerned face, but her eyes so quietly questioning, Loki pulled himself together and gave her one of his famous smirks. "Nothing to be fretting over."

"Are you sure, uh…Loki?" It looked as if she wanted to place a hand on his shoulder, but deemed not to. Physical contact seemed cross in his mind right now, and a bloody mortal was most definitely not the most consoling thing in the whole realm right then.

Anne, like sensing his inward sneering, stood up from her position to distance herself, he guessed. Why, she was quite skilled in analyzing emotions and moods.

He wondered distantly if she was secretly sent from Asgard to spy on him and report back to the All father how horribly he was doing on his own.

All that Loki could do now…all he could feel right now, was distance. He knew his choices, he knew the drawbacks full well.

He just hadn't expected it to be so…depressing.

Without Thor.

"_I will not fight you, brother." _He remembered his words clearly. At least he was there. Up until the last moment that was. He did not join in Odin's trickery, but when he last saw him again, he was a changed man.

"_Loki, no.." _

"..Loki?"

Realizing he had drifted off, he smiled eloquently at the awkwardly standing Anne in the doorway, seeing through a glance over his shoulder. "Yes?" He asked, sickeningly pleasant, so polite in his tone.

Anne stood with some clothes in her hands, just a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt, hopeful that it would fit him. She had noticed while on the couch a while back that his..._costume, _had been getting her furniture a little too dirty. Besides that, she was going to take him _out._

And she positively couldn't have him dressed in a costume for god's sakes while doing so.

"Here are some...clothes. I think it's getting a little hot in your armor and all. Must be more than 50 degrees in there, the sweat must've pooled up in your chest by now—well, despite the chilly weather, and um, I can't really have you—er…" She looked at him, pleadingly, hoping that he would get the gist. "They're old, I hope that's okay."

"Oh, yes absolutely-Thank you." Loki said, accepting the clothes.

Anne rubbed at the back of her neck sheepishly, "I was, well...thinking that we should go…shopping? For your needs and stuff. Maybe then could we continue with your story…?"

Judge her—it may have seemed absolutely _careless _and so blatantly _ignorant_ to people with similar situations to just have let a stranger interact with her freely. It was a plan in progress, in Anne's mind; mind you.

If he was going to stay with her, she might as well get to know him over some common, everyday shopping, right?

"Ah. I think it would only be appropriate. You're willing to…?"

Anne blushed. "Erh, yes. Of course."

Loki grinned at her. It was strange to her, but ignored the foreboding feelings otherwise. "Thank you. I don't know how to express my gratitude enough."

Besides. It was a common tactic. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer' was the quote, if she remembered correctly.

She really was pushing through with her actions. She couldn't just go back on her word right then. She knew from the moment that she had said 'Okay.' To him when he asked for her help that she was getting herself tangled in a new web.

"Um. You can change upstairs, I'll wait down here…?"

Loki only seemed to nod with that overly gracious face of his. "I'll be going up then." And he stood up, smiled that saccharine smile once again, before heading for the upper floors.

It was all so…strange.

He seemed like a different person from the one she first picked up on the street. The one that glared at her, the one that practically commanded her and begged her at the same time.

Now, he was the polite, the kind, and the obliging guest in her home. Or should she say house-mate…?

It was a distinct change of persona. Had he adopted one? To fool her? She would find out soon enough, she guessed...

Seriously considering things, she couldn't just leave him, could she? Surely, when he said that his "family abandoned him" he was being honest? It had to count for something. She just felt the solemnity with those words spoken. It was a genuine, material sadness that she had sensed.

She sighed inwardly. She_ was _trusting her heart, wasn't she?

_Oh, damn me._

**. : { } : .**

**.: hanako :.**

Loki is adapting personas here. He believes that if Anne would like him more, the better and easier it would be for him to cope with the current conditions of his departure from Asgard. **And so that it would make her fall for him. SO HE COULD CRUSH HER HEARTTTT**

And the only way for Loki to make Anne like more was if he was kind, nice, and polite. (How dull...) But that's what **he thinks. **As Anne's creator, she would much rather prefer **SASSY-ASS Loki** waaaaay more. Perhaps a change of heart would be in the next few chapters…?

_**MOOORIIIAAARRRTYYYYY!**_

Nah, I just remembered that. Sherlock fans, woohoo.

Thanks for reviewing, my solemn reviewer. I'm glad you liked my horrible lyrics rewriting skills. Xoxo Thank you, also, to those who put this on alert, favorite-d and what not. (You all deserve wonderful hugs and kisses for existing)

**Guys, I'm also searching for a beta. If anyone is interested, please PM me!**

**So I guess on the next chapter…it shall be **_**shopping **_**with **_**Loki. **_**Doesn't that sound fun?**

**Spare time?**

**:**

**Oh, spare me the time to write a review, madam!**

**:**

_**Guise, siriusly. Write me a review. Please..?**_

_**(And I'm getting desperate.)**_

**:**

**v**


	6. Chapter 6

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter vi_

Anne was nervous.

She had only given Loki a cotton shirt, a pair of jeans and old sneakers that used to belong to her _older brother. _And while he changed (which took a long time, she had noticed), she went to change her clothes as well; arriving back in just a few minutes.

Would the clothes fit him? Hopefully; it would. If her mental estimates were correct, which she had full faith in, then it would rightfully fit his skinny arms, skinny legs, and tall figure.

He came downstairs, all ease and comfort. His face had this saccharine smile. He looked strange in such casual clothes. He was more likely a man of a refined and elegant fashion style, judging from his…armor.

She looked away. Him having this _twisted _smile on his face was unnerving. It did _not _seem natural, in fact, it looked absolutely _fake_, and it did not remind her of the handsome face that had once looked at her with that smile. When he said, "And you are welcome. Very much so," with that smile of his, he looked so perfect, although his voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Shall we?" He said, obliging, polite and what not. Like the perfect copy of a well-bred Englishman.

Anne awkwardly nodded, went off to the front door, Loki filing out, she locking it. When she looked back at him, he was already at her car with this concentrated face, sizing up the automobile.

She distantly mumbled "don't look at my car, please" with a mix of perfectly timed coughs here and there. Loki seemed to notice.

"Oh, I apologize. Please go on," He said, gesturing to the car generally.

She nodded slowly. _Alright…_Jumping in, she noticed Loki's general reluctance in doing anything. _He's caught between using the car door and jumping over it. Technophobe, maybe? Could he __**really **__possibly be from the Victorian era? Did he use a telephone booth to do it?_

She smiled awkwardly and gestured towards the seat beside her. "I don't bite. Hop in."

Like coming to a decision, he gripped the car door before hefting himself over it and into said seat, nearly crushing her hand had Anne not moved it in time.

He was breathing after so loudly after such a workout, she noticed. Anne saved a few laughs for that. _Can I tire him out that easily?_

"I'm taking ya' to some clothes shops first, okay?" She said as she backed out the driveway, easing onto the winding roads.

Loki only seemed to nod.

For the duration of the ride to town, he was quiet. Not a single peep. He only seemed to observe everything he set his eye upon, often looking towards the waves of the ocean and the skies. His eyes changed subjects very slowly; and there was a somewhat…curious glint to his eyes.

He only looked to her when he got tired of his subjects, and Anne would just place a small smile on her lips when did so. He would then look back to the clouds, then to the deep blue waters.

He most certainly seemed…_lost._ And she remembered his words, "my family abandoned me.". Was it truly that way?

Anne let go of all these speculations and a good few more minutes of travel later, she parked her car right on quaint, downtown Rockport. Shops were already open, citizens passing through town on their daily rituals. She got out of her car and locked the doors, Loki soon following her movements. This time, she made sure to put the top on.

Pocketing her keys, Anne started the walk to the nearest clothes shop, making sure to head for a shop with elegant men's clothes, her companion silently and obediently coming soon after.

She entered, and so did he, in one of the more high end shops in town, the one with the fancy employees who had British accents and superior manners as a standard. Anne looked to Loki with her flustered expression.

"Uh, go ahead. Find something you like…?" She said awkwardly, strangely acknowledging the feeling of a mother taking her child out before the child shopped independently.

Loki nodded, and went on his way to one of the clothes racks.

What a strange way to spend her day off, wasn't it? Shopping with a man that really seemed _out of this world. _

She watched him move—his swift fingers nimbly weaved through numerous

She smiled, as she saw him eyeing one of the scarves on the display. A green and white print scarf that looked elegant around anybody's neck. Loki, however, dismissed it.

Did she mention that she had the strange feeling that _that _scarf would look extremely dashing on Loki's neck?

She waltzed over to where it lay on the shelf. Anne checked the price tag, the price was sensible. Maybe she would get this as a little…gift?

Anne blushed. _What. In the world. Am I. __**Thinking?**_

She gulped, and her eyesight shifted to that of Loki coming out of a dressing room in a smartly tailored three-piece suit with a pair of silver buckled shoes. He stood in front of the mirror, observing his reflection wearing the expensive wardrobe. Her eyes widened. Would she be able to afford that? And wait here—why would he even need a suit?

His gaze shifted to her reflection in the mirror, which was curiously standing by a display shelf, awkwardly holding the green scarf in her hands.

Loki grinned instantly. Anne felt like running away, with those menacing, cold blue eyes turning around to face her. He held his hand out, as if asking for the piece of fabric she held.

She stammered for words. "I thought like this would suit you." Anne handed the scarf.

The instant her hand left the scarf in his, his hand clasped the scarf, as if caging it like a bird. He inspected it, turning it over and seeing the tailoring. She suddenly felt nervous and conscious, wondering if he secretly hated her taste in scarves.

On the contrary, he smiled radiantly—with that menacing glint in his eyes again—and thanked her for it. He wrapped it around his neck, and Anne smiled when she was right.

He looked absolutely gorgeous—fine three piece suit with matching shoes and scarf and all. Her views suddenly shifted towards actually getting the get-up for him.

Loki, like reading her thoughts, placed a hand on her shoulder. As if calming and trying to rid her of any more unnecessary thoughts, he said, with that strange countenance of his, "The scarf is all I ask."

It was her turn to grin. And breathe a sigh of relief. That saved the little piece of plastic in her wallet of any trouble. "Alright."

And, the well-timed entrance of a British-accented employee made his way. "Will that be all, ma'am?" He said, holding a hand out for him to take to the counter.

"Yeah." Anne said, giving an estranged smile to the man that intervened. Loki reluctantly placed the scarf in the man's hand, as if not trusting him, and made his way back to the dressing rooms to change back into his former clothes, the ones that she gave.

She and the man went over to the counter to pay for the scarf and what not. When Loki returned, he was all ready to go.

_What an eventful first stop_, Anne mused inwardly. Anyway, she handed him the bag, briefly thanked both British-accented employees, and walked out of the shop with Loki following.

She stepped out onto the gray pavement, the small crunches of Loki's sneakers trailed the raps of her ballerina flats. He looked to her with detectable gratitude in his eyes, his elegant lips twisted in a smile that exposed his stunning white teeth.

It was moments such as these that seemed to overwhelm Anne's fragile bearings. _Gorgeous. Why can't I stop staring?_

Loki gave a slight laugh. A very minute one—like the softest chuckles escaped him. Amusement danced in his eyes. This mortal always seemed to observe, and while doing so, caught herself up in her subjects.

There was a curious glint to her eyes, one that breathed into her a certain life; those crimson orbs looked on with the sight of that of a curious bird, heedless in its attempts to draw up and design a person's character. And given the chance of an endless examination, could prove his identity to be figured and analyzed full well.

Anne Weller was certainly not to be underestimated.

"You seem amazed," Loki said, with a wry tone in his voice.

Her cheeks reddened briefly, giving color to the otherwise colorless cheeks of hers. She didn't seem to notice. She sputtered—Loki nearly smiled. She was obviously flustered.

"I was thinking of why you were wearing a suit when you obviously needed some casual clothes first." She finally spoke, tone clear. He noticed—her voice was usually that of a medium pitch, neither soft nor hard in its fashion. However dull compared to the strong tone of Lady Sif.

He gave her a shrewd smile. "My taste is quite refined, you see." They talked, as both traversed the streets aimlessly.

"Oh. So, you like suits and ties and all that?" Asked she, with that curious glance of hers again.

Loki nodded. "Very much so." He replied honestly, with no need to spin a lie. He felt it unnecessary on his part to do so.

There was a random leak of nervous laughter from Anne. "Suits, huh…" She confided quietly.

He caught on quickly, and made sure to halt her from walking by placing a hand on her shoulder as he did in the shop, he smiled reassuringly. "What I honestly require would just be shelter and some essentials for…_embellishment_." It may have been strange to have to say this to her, but he had his requirements. He had at the least, managed to put it eloquently.

And he supposed Anne thought the same, for she nodded. "Okay. To the next stop then?" She inquired, with that curios-fond tone of hers.

He agreed, and off they went, bounding off the corner on a street while she guided him through the streets and mechanisms of Midgard, with no qualms, no arguments, no regrets, no complaints.

Once they had finished, Anne brought him to a bistro, as the mortals called it, and she had exchanged pieces of paper which he found out to be the Midgardian form of currency. She seated both of them outside, where they had a view of the ocean.

Midgard was strangely quaint. At least—in Rockport (he found it out to be the place where he was right now from Anne) it was. A vast expanse of water lay in front of him, the community peaceful, and the surrounding environment calming. In other words, all was in its equilibrium in Rockport; resulting in it being absolutely _boring_ to Loki's tastes.

Then did Loki look to her, who had been eating her meal consisting of food from the sea. She was young, and as she told him, only of the age of four and twenty. Her countenance was mostly civil, her speech highly intelligible and clever. She made interesting company with her various expressions, and made good company with her intelligence and analytical skills. Her witty remarks were humorous to him.

Yet, he then wondered, absently, on why such a creature such as herself would stay in a place like Rockport—she was young and fresh, whilst the sights of Rockport only seemed to appeal to the old. Its charms affected not youth, however made itself visible to the aged.

What was she doing _here_, of all places in Midgard? Even that desert of a land Thor had landed in seemed more interesting than here.

_Puente Antiguo. New Mexico. _He reminded himself.

His gaze then fixed itself on Anne. Her little pale hands stopped in its tracks, and dropped the silverware. She wiped her mouth with a cloth; "Huh?" then came her short query.

Loki smiled. "Nothing. Please, don't trouble yourself with my actions."

Anne blinked, nodded and resumed back to finishing her lunch. "Okay…" She said, and a brief glint of analysis flashed in her eyes.

He inwardly smirked.

**. : { } : . **

**.: hanako :.**

Okay, I'm really sorry I haven't updated in weeks. I have had to study for one week, and the weekend after that, I had to attend this local debating competition. The next weekend after that…well, I didn't technically update on the weekend, since, after all, today is a _**Monday.**_

**Thanks to all those who have put this on their alerts list/ faves and decided to follow, also to those who have been waiting continually for an update from me and kept reading in the end, you've served to become one of my main inspirations when it comes to writing.**

**Another thing, when Loki said *embellishment, he meant something in the context of grooming. He is a vain man (Hiddles even said so himself), and about the scarf and Anne's strange behavior towards it, it shall be explained in later chapters. **

***This chapter was hard to write, honestly. Imagining Loki and his dialogues in this situation was almost impossible for me.**

_Hullo!_

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_**Review**__, maybe? I __**desperately **__need feedback. I __**seriously **__want to know if this chapter was good or not. _

_:_

_:_

_v_


	7. Chapter 7

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter vii_

* * *

The rest of the day concluded as follows: the pair finished their shopping all the while with comfortable talk (Anne was keen on getting to know him better; Loki had to keep giving out false information), and had driven back.

They both changed into more comfortable clothes once back, and Loki stowed away upstairs for the rest of the evening—gods knew what he was up to. All Anne could focus on was trying to size up a decent meal, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of him with some poor "gastronomical understanding" (as her moony coworkers called it).

She was moving quickly, too. Here and there; flinging cooking ware everywhere, with the occasional turn of a page of a cookbook on the countertop, Anne tried her best to produce a respectable pasta carbonara. It was quite an amusing sight to Loki, who had come downstairs just a few minutes right after she had added the pasta to the boiling water and covering it with a lid; he sat on one of the chairs nearest the kitchen counter, by the dining table.

He took in her form once again, as he had done it a considerable number of times that day while they were out, though from behind. She was adequately sized, had skin paler than his, crimson eyes and ebony black wavy hair. She had curves alright; and had as if just the right amount of muscle on her.

He examined the way she moved. Nimble, fast—not impatient; as if she were trained to move quickly. Her skinny fingers grasped everything almost delicately, however delicate they were permitted to be for she always moved quickly.

He paused for a moment, she was speaking to him.

"Loki?"

The frost prince blinked, genuinely caught in the act of flat out staring, but not seeming to care even in the slightest bit. "Oh—yes?" The way he said was polite, innocent almost.

_Unnerving, that's what. He thinks it isn't rude to stare? _She inwardly fumed.

"Nothing," Anne murmured, continuing her task, slowly this time. Still, she could feel his stupid eyes. She grunted. Irritably, she paced to the refrigerator and brought out a pound of romano cheese; then to grab the cheese grater and start mercilessly shredding said cheese into bits and pieces in break neck speed.

Loki could only chuckle quietly behind her—_Mortals can be so amusing, _he thought, as he continued watching her; then browning olive oil and pancetta in a separate pan.

Anne produced a large mixing bowl from one of the cabinets and a fork, she started beating yolk; then ladling out some of the pasta water to add to it. She soon started assembling the final products—drained the pasta, and adding it to the pan with the oil and pancetta, pouring the egg mixture over it, tossing the whole thing rapidly. She turned off the heat; adding equal amounts of mercilessly shredded cheese, salt, and pepper, still tossing the whole thing. After two minutes, she divided it into two plates, garnishing each plate with parsley and extra cheese.

She shot a dirty look over her shoulder, seeing Loki's attention elsewhere. He was scanning the shelves of books directly opposite the dining table—no blaming him of course—Anne hardly kept to her own opinion when it came to reading (and it was certainly no use in discarding a book that you didn't like because that would be a ruddy waste of paper, now wouldn't it?), it would be no surprise if he found some rather…_interesting_ tomes in there.

Loki picked a book right of the shelf, a little big one; Anne did her best in trying to read what the title said. No need though, he had already done it for her.

"_Bulflinch's Greek, Norse and Roman Mythology." _He read aloud, flipping through the pages of the slightly oversized book as if it weren't heavy at all. Aware of her eyes on him, he looked at her innocently. "Would you mind if I borrow this to read?"

"Uh, of course not. Go on ahead...?" She stammered, not thinking of a reason why he would possibly want to read that book in particular, setting down the two plates on the table and going back to the kitchen momentarily to gather the silverware.

Loki sat back down, scanning the table of contents animatedly; almost feverish in fact, two names caught his eyes. He quickly marked the pages—he would be reading later. For now, he would settle on his mortal-prepared meal.

And he did have to say, it was delicious.

* * *

Loki woke up the next morning, groggy and his neck still hurt from reading too late into the night. _The things these mortals come up with. _He mocked inwardly, seeing the drivel written in the pages he had read and gone over nearly a million times then—he decided not to remember right then. He got up in the mortal clothes given to him by Anne, he mused if Thor felt as strange as he was right then, when he was banished to Midgard.

He was surprised to see Anne already bustling so early in the kitchen, though. She smiled at him pleasantly; she was already out of her sleeping garments. She had a pair of large square, turquoise tinted glasses with magenta frames on her. Her hair was in a chignon, a few strands of ebony framing her face. He couldn't make out the crimson of her irises; their color was filtered out by the lenses.

He looked awkward in the doorway. He was definitely caught off guard—he had wanted to look for another book that might have been interesting enough for him to read when he came downstairs; he did not expect seeing her.

"Good morning," She chirped, going back to flipping pancakes.

Loki paused, he hadn't the time to react like he would normally (which was a perfect gentleman, not some simpering awkward fool), but he had now. He gave a quiet "Morning," before deciding to sit quietly on the couch, staring outside the window giving a view of the front yard and the clear blue skies that day. All signs of a previously predicted storm were dimming, the weather looked uncannily perfect.

He decided to make idle conversation. "Going out today, are we?" He asked crisply, hearing her cheery hum.

"Mmhmm." She strutted towards him, holding a spatula in hand, wearing a sky blue with red polka dots apron. "I have work today and since I don't really trust you with the keys to my house yet…"

"Ah." Of course. If he were in her place, he would have only done the same.

Anne nodded and waved her spatula like a magic wand. "D'you know how to cook pancakes?" She asked suddenly, with an easy smile.

Loki strained his mouth to say a biting 'no, do you honestly expect me to know how to?' but surprised himself when he said a simple, "No." that suddenly made Anne drag him to the kitchen to teach him how to.

"Then it's about time you learn how to!" She made him stand in front of the pan, and ladled out some pancake mix. Anne laughed at his expression; it was deadpan from simply all the _joy _he felt at the moment, making bloody pathetic midgardian _breakfasts _just because of the black-haired minx standing right beside him.

"Here. The top part's got to be bubbling, before we flip it. Keep prodding the pancake until you can see that the bottom part's done too, see?" She flipped the pancake expertly, seconds later, she showed the underside—which looked golden brown, matching the color of the top part. She dug the spatula right beneath it, and lifted it off the pan, carelessly placing it on a plate stacked with pancakes done beforehand.

Loki's face was stony. It made her shudder. "Look, okay—if you're boarding this house, the least you've got to do is help me with meals!" She practically grumbled, glaring right up at the tall man beside her. She mentally said to herself, _I was just trying to be friendly. No need to be all mad. _

He sure as hell glared right back at her. He could see clearly though, the fury in her eyes, though he would've liked it better if he could glare daggers into them without the glasses blocking the way.

Muttering a "_Fine, fine_", Anne calmly placed the spatula down (not hurling it at his stupid face as she wanted to) but trudged upstairs, doing Loki didn't know what.

Finally seeming to be able to move, Loki sighed and picked up the damn spatula. _She does have a point, _He admitted begrudgingly, strangely surprised at his own behavior. Wasn't he grooming himself to be on her good side?

He closed his eyes, and took one deep breath. _Oh, whatever. _Loki did exactly as she did right before him a few minutes ago, gracefully and elegantly flipping and preparing three pancakes. He could learn only so quickly of course. He had always been some sort of a fast learner. Too bad that he had to waste it on trifling midgardian tasks such as this.

Anne came thundering down the footsteps just a few seconds before he was finishing up on setting the table, out of "common courtesy". He nearly sneered.

The woman came over the fridge and brought out a bottle of some fine quality maple syrup. She was going to make blueberry syrup of course—but then Loki had managed to make her infuriated enough that single morning to let her forget about it. She seized the butter as well, placing them on the table.

She was surprised at the turnout though, it was as if she cooked the rest of the pancakes herself; not that she boasted or anything. Anne looked up to Loki who was seemingly apologetic.

"I apologize for my behavior earlier." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes; he seemed to be doing that a lot these times, "I just didn't think I'd find myself doing something such as _this._"

He opened his eyes to her, the twinkling light blue now staring right through her, with a terrible smirk on his face, "But I agree that I should at least help you, since I'm the one imposing."

She barely breathed—he did everything she inwardly fumed she wanted him to do—apologize and admit that she was correct (he did what was near to it anyway). Confounded, Anne blushed a deep shade of red that seemed to broaden his smirk.

"Okay…"

What a moody man, one minute he's stony, the next he's all butterscotch and caramel. Sickeningly sweet. "I forgive you. So, uh. Breakfast?"

They finished the meal in silence, comfortable silence, awkward silence, Anne didn't know. She couldn't distinguish. After, she went to wash the dishes while Loki had gone upstairs to change.

* * *

Anne parked right in front of the café this time, and hopped right out. Loki did the same, though more elegantly, she had to admit. She walked right in, Loki trailing her, and she waved over to the tables in the café.

She had returned to her usual self by then, grinning at him. "Sit wherever you'd like, I'll be here all day until four. My lunch break's by twelve. Roam the city if you'd like, not my fault though if you get lost."

He nodded, and sat on one of the tables right next to the café windows, looking out towards the sea. Loki looked wistful almost—she could only imagine what he would be thinking about.

_Maybe his family…? _She cut the train of thought, when she realized the other waitresses had started towards her.

"Who's that?" Lucy —one of the younger, girly, pretty little waitresses, she was twenty, if Anne recalled correctly—peeked curiously from behind the counter; aiming her eyes towards the no attention paying Loki by the window, she was wearing a sparkling ruby headband to push back her curly chestnut brown hair.

"It's about time you brought in a boyfriend, Annie." Came Telula's voice, she was walking towards the pair now by the counter. She was the oldest waitress amongst those working for the café being twenty-nine, but by no means the ugliest. Telula had dirty blond straight hair, set back in a ponytail; she wore a cute, butterfly hairpin to pin her bangs. She smiled a knowing smile at Anne, Lucy was giggling softly behind them.

Anne blushed, but hefted herself on the counter nonetheless. She just smiled at the two who were staring at her with raised eyebrows. "He's Loki, a friend of mine, but he's no boyfriend, I'm telling you." She lied lightly.

"He looks kinda exotic, doesn't he?" Lucy pondered, sending looks towards the man in question.

"Awful thoughtful, too." Telula murmured, watching him as he just peered out the window. All three sets of eyes were now on him, and they were pretty surprised when he suddenly snapped his gaze toward them—questioningly, he pursed his lips but gave a stiff nod before returning to his view of the sea.

"Shouldn't bother him too much, ladies." Anne murmured softly, swinging her legs while staring out the front door instead.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Let him to his peace, Lucykins. A man needs his privacy." Telula wisely said, Anne shot her a grateful look. How in the world was she casually supposed to explain that his family abandoned him?

The owner of the café strode in right then, chipper as ever, that Martin Firth was. He was a man in his early thirties, drove a modest car despite being able to afford a better one, kind to his employees but knowing how to be the proper employer at the same time.

Though at times, he _could _be able to act their ages…

"Good morning everybody." Martin chirped, he was a little short for his age, had short brown hair that came in clouds on his head, had a stubble and brown amber eyes. All in all, surprising for he was very handsome and adorable but unmarried.

The rest of the employees greeted him, and his eyes wandered over to Loki.

"Oh, who's this?" He asked, smiling politely at his employees.

Anne adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose before answering, "He's a friend of mine, Martin."

Her boss (Martin insisted that everyone be on first name basis, he admitted he disliked the stiff formality) nodded, going straight to the kitchens, saying "I'll be at the back."

The three waitresses nodded. Alice entered—she was the one who manned the cash register, beautiful like the rest of the girls—and started straightening up her station. She looked to the other three girls, eyes bouncing between them and Loki.

"He's Loki." Anne answered, wiping her glasses.

"Friend of Annie-dear's," Lucy chimed.

"Not her boyfriend though." Telula piped in, nudging Anne in the ribs playfully.

Alice had platinum blond hair, pinned up in a tight bun. She had a cute sailor's hat on. She motioned for the girls to huddle, "He's hot." She whispered incredulously, like a girl finding someone attractive for the first time.

Anne scoffed. _Wait till he stares at you with those eyes. _

Lucy, however, seemed to agree. "How _can_ you guys be not dating, Annie? I mean look at _you! _And look at _him!"_

Anne had to agree though—that man was drop-dead gorgeous just sitting right there in the sun, reading a newspaper he seemed to have produced out of nowhere.

She, however, couldn't find herself anything to even remotely contend with him; she was wearing a colorful ensemble to match the café's _vibrant _reputation. The café had required no uniforms to be worn—just that its employees be brilliant, not too drabby and positively _fun._

"Uh—excuse me?" Anne blinked; what were they getting at? "If you want him, you can go have him, just try and not bother him too much." She said awkwardly.

Lucy seemed to squeal. "I don't know why you keep passing guys up, Annie. I'd thought you would've had some kind of history with him, the way he followed you in this morning. As if he was a little puppy on your heels."

"I swear, he's not as perfect as you all think he is," Anne mumbled.

Alice seemed not to have heard—she was already approaching Loki. She shot a nervous look over her shoulder—who was to blame her, she was only eighteen—Lucy gave an encouraging thumbs up.

Anne's breath hitched. She really didn't think she'd go that fast. So she sat, watched as the moment Alice started introducing herself, Loki waved her off, like a little fly in his midst, without a single glance towards her.

_How…how rude! _She thought, but couldn't help laughing, seeing Alice's adorable, pouty face.

"Ah, Alice." Telula tutted, Lucy was giggling as well. "I thought it would happen, but not like that." The elder said; Anne patted Alice's shoulder comfortingly.

"Better luck next time, Alice dear." Anne smiled, seeing Alice's arms cross themselves.

"H-he didn't even look at me!" She feigned hurt, and the three laughed slightly.

The minute customers started pouring in, the minute all of them put their best smiles on. After all, all of them _did _enjoy working at a café especially one owned by Mr. Firth. Loki watched as Anne moved through tables easily, taking people's orders cheerfully.

"_Good to see you, Mrs. Mcmilligan. I trust the baby's getting along fine?"_ He heard her say animatedly to one of the older patrons, obviously a mother who liked Anne for she smiled back at her.

He had through the papers over and over again until he decided he could no longer squeeze any useless information from it, so he had turned over to observing Anne.

Gracious Anne who had helped him in his time of need. He smirked, as he watched her carry back some drinks for a few people. He sipped the drink she had brought him minutes ago, black coffee, she told him. He liked it, to be honest. Though it never tasted as good as the mug she had made him the first morning he spent at her house.

Anne sat down in front of him, it was her lunch break. "I didn't see you go out all morning," She murmured attentively, eyeing the man in front of her.

Loki rolled his eyes. As if he'd like to go out anyway—observing the foolish mortals around him was better than walking around aimlessly, and he'd rather not risk getting lost. "I'm content staying in." He never was the outdoorsy type anyway.

Anne placed a hand above her brows to shade her eyes; she was blinking rapidly for a moment before she focused her eyes back on him. "Must be boring." She said absently—talking to him casually was easier to do, for some reason. It was certainly much easier than her incessant and nervous stutter yesterday, when they had first gone out.

"On the contrary, it isn't." She huffed. The teasing tone and the eye roll weren't appreciated, obviously.

Exasperatedly, Anne just gave him a little rise of her eyebrows mixed with tight lips. "So, what do you plan on doing for lunch?"

"Up to you." He answered, fiddling with his fingers boredly. "You seem tired." He observed dryly, he had nothing else to do.

_He seems so different from the guy I knew yesterday, _Anne mused, seeing if he'd given up his adopted persona. She had seen his true colors by then—sassy, moody but very sensible and calculating. He seemed very smart and thought a lot, still. The slightest of things bored him. It made her think that he was the type that valued more important things than senseless ones—strange because everyone seemed to be the opposite these days—or, he had just a very bloated ego. Either one. Both, probably.

"I am a little." She said honestly, rubbing at her eyes. The slightest peek of crimson reached Loki's sight, and he blinked.

"It's your work, I'm thinking?" He acted caring while peered at her, only very slightly wondering what had made her eyes crimson. Judging by the way she shielded her eyes from sunlight, they must have been very sensitive, and from the way she had to wear those glasses. All of this was Loki's conjecture.

Anne nodded. "There's a lot of people here today."

Loki didn't care. He nodded crisply.

"I'm just getting us some lunch here then. Anything catch your eye?" Nothing did, frankly. He was as bored as ever, and the only thing that ever occupied him was when she was there to amuse him. So he acted as if everything interested him, and couldn't choose.

"I'll get something for you then." She walked back to where the girl that tried talking to him that morning was, the one he had waved off. He watched her.

"Hiya, Annie." Alice said, wiping the counter. "That Loki guy's staring straight at us. Notice that?"

"He's done that to me this morning." Anne said amusedly, seeing if it would ward off Alice. She shook her head. Alice laughed—she was sweet. It made Anne wonder why she wasn't in a relationship. She wrote down her and Loki's order, and slid it to Alice.

The platinum blonde read it, and her large, doe eyes shifted to Anne. "For you two?" Alice smiled at her.

"Don't be getting any ideas, 'Lissy." Was all Anne said, using the nickname which infuriated her. Alice puffed her cheeks, before setting to work on the meal.

When she arrived with two plates, Alice pushed Anne off the counter. She stuck her tongue out at Anne. "Did I mention that you're single and pretty and totally nuts, Annie?"

"Hmm. Always have." Anne mentioned thoughtfully, stroking her chin.

"Then I don't see why_ you _haven't gotten _that_ hunk." She said, pointing her eyes towards Loki for a brief second. "Give us a break Anne, you haven't dated since forever. 'Lula's going nuts trying to set you up with a man."

Anne seemed to glare at Alice. She was correct of course, but Loki? Was she mad? Anne simply clicked her tongue at the moronic idea, why would she try and date someone she had practically picked up off of the street? "I'll date when I find the right man." She walked away with the two plates.

Alice called after her, "You make it sound as if you're trying to marry someone!"

_I am absolutely not. _Anne walked back to the table, seeing Loki's amusement dancing in his eyes made her wonder idly if he had heard their conversation.

* * *

**. : { } : .**

* * *

**Ugh, I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever. I deeply am. **

**In this chapter, Loki ponders the mortal. Not just any mortal, though.**

**Well—Loki—he's sassy—uh—moody—er—he doesn't like mortals—except anne—okay—may he only likes anne because she saved his skin—but still—I'll have to work on getting that awkwardness out so the **_**romance **_**could seriously bloom. **

**Special cheers to the new reviewers! Whoo! I'm glad someone got the reference to **_**Persuasion**_**! That's where I based this Anne off, a little. It's something of a tribute to the greatness that is Jane Austen. **

**PS – If you hate Mary Sues, then please back away from this fic. Anne's a Mary Sue. Yeah, I know. Quite obvious, isn't it—well anyway. Please get back on your ruddy high horses and trot away. **

**D'you think Loki's warming up to Anne? The constant bickering, maybe? I'm not quite sure myself. But Loki will soon be facing competition—Anne's heart is up for grabs. I know, horrible thing for a plot. I'm trying to think of other ways of how Loki might finally realize he's attracted to Anniekins. **

**Thanks to those who still kept this story on their faves—Merlin knows how long you've waited for an update—and those who still read—moreover to those who reviewed! I adore the lot of you! **

** Shadow realm triforce – ****You've reviewed every chapter—my, I can't be any more gracious and thankful. It's wonderful that this story's managed to keep your curiosity and catch your fancy. Thanks a bunch, darling!**

**I sound mental. But hey, at long last you get your update, right-o? **

_**Do review, darling!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**MERIDIAN**

_Chapter viii_

* * *

"My, don't you look amused." Anne deadpanned, while placing Loki's plate down before him. It was a chicken sandwich—one of the café's bestsellers. She sat down across him with her ham and cheese Panini. Not that she wasn't hungry or anything—Anne could always order some chocolate doughnuts (which she always did, because Mr. Firth allowed that in between service, extraordinarily enough) while working later.

Loki only raised his brows innocently and started eating; she could obviously tell that he had overheard her conversation with Alice just a few moments ago. _Don't look so innocent, I know you aren't._

Anne chewed the inside of her cheek before reluctantly eating as well. They ate in silence again, but she always shot looks at him nervously. She didn't know as to why she was suddenly so anxious around him.

He could tell she was nervous of course, from the way she kept her eyes on him. Amusing, Loki found it, being subjected to the frantic scrutiny of a mortal, trying to figure him out. The frost prince scoffed inwardly at this.

Minutes later, Lucy came round and was carrying their drinks. She smiled at Anne, and shot secret looks at Loki and back to her, as if saying, _'Don't try denying it. You like him.' _

"Iced tea for both the lovely customers!" Lucy practically cheered, exaggerating with grand gestures, waving about while placing two tall glasses of the reddish-brown liquid on their table. "Mr. Firth brings you his blessings, oh wondrous Miss. Weller." She said as she gave one sweeping bow and walking backwards a few steps, before scurrying off to behind the counter where Alice and Martin stood sniggering. Telula was joining them, apparently on lunch break too, chuckling at Lucy's antics.

Loki hadn't even noticed the girl though he did hear what she said—he kept his amused eyes settled on the obviously infuriated Anne.

"That's right, run!" Anne murderously directed her glare towards her _professional _and_ proper_ coworkers and boss stood, laughing their enormous arses off. The customers were already used to this type of behavior from the establishment—it was lively, playful banter that they all enjoyed seeing (the customers consisted of a considerable amount of people in the older years). She gripped her knife tightly before turning her cheek and looking outside the café while spitefully drinking the iced tea.

"Don't seem too pleased now, do you?" Loki murmured dryly, just loud enough for the woman sitting across him could hear. He let a tinge of how amused he was escape his voice, knowing how well she could detect emotion in speech.

"I feel spectacular, Loki—I just love being teased about my inability to date a man every day." She answered, her voice dripping with sarcasm, as she set down the glass and adjusted the glasses on her nose for just about the millionth time of that day. "And by my boss and coworkers no less." Her brain had silently been sending telepathic messages of _'What the hell were you idiots thinking' _to the brainless creatures standing by the counter the whole time.

Loki could agree with her sarcasm very, very minutely—Thor had playfully teased him throughout the years as not being able to attract a single woman in Asgard—though it wasn't exactly his ambition to do so, yet it left him a little inexperienced in _that _department…to be frank with himself. Besides, how could he attract a single asgardian when his darling _brother _always showboated and stole the attention?

He looked thoughtful from Anne's view, and she couldn't help but wonder what was crossing his mind right then. Had the subject of her inability to date been so interesting? She sighed-If only the gods had gifted her with the ability to read minds. It would be easier to understand the confusing man right in front of her; and she could effectively evade any schemes of the three rare species of prat standing by the counter (discounting Telula of course, she was _much _more mature than the other three).

And then she suddenly realized the quick mood change—she was just staring at Loki then—Loki was looking out the window—she knew how well the morons that she could thoroughly feel were staring at them would misinterpret _that_. She tried her best in shifting topics, "So, huh. Have _you _dated?"

_You sound desperate. Desperate to date him, and not desperate to shake off the sudden mood change. __**Smooth, **__Anne. Real smooth. _

He on the other hand, glanced right back at her, with an elegant brow raised. "What would make you interested in that, Anne?" Her name rolled off his tongue eloquently, with that accent of his.

She reddened. _Damn your smoothness. _But much to her relief, she had come up with a great retort. "Because you seem so genuinely interested in mine."

_Score. _He didn't say anything at first. Moments later, he came out with another answer for her. "I'm not interested in fair exchange, you should know."

_He doesn't care if he isn't fair. __**Jerk. **_

"But that's not nice, isn't it?" She bit back.

Loki snapped his head back to glare at her fully and wanted to say, 'does it look like I care, mortal?' in his iciest tone. But he didn't. He said nothing.

Anne stared. He looked upset, but decided not to push him any further. She looked down on her fingers, not sure what to say. She pursed her lips; he must've hated her right then. "Sorry." She murmured.

"Don't be," He murmured. "You have _nothing_ to do with it."

She looked at him. Her eyes were so apologetic and trying—trying, as if, to figure out how she could help him. He scoffed. _I'd like to see you try and help a bloody frost giant. I'm not asking for your help, mortal._

"I'll get back to work then…" Anne muttered, "I'm still sorry I brought it up."

Loki nodded stiffly.

She walked to where the four people that had been staring through and through. They went off the minute she joined them.

Lucy seemed surprised. "One minute you're all playful but then the next it looked like you'd never known each other."

Martin gave a low whistle. "Quiet type, isn't he?"

Anne shook off all other thoughts from the previous situation, save for one. "I struck a chord, I think."

"I really thought you guys had a thing," Alice offered, "But then he shut himself up right in front of you."

Telula shot an aggravated look at the other three. "Shouldn't have pushed it, you guys."

Anne just sighed and shook her head. "What's done is done."

Their boss seemed to agree. "Yep. We should get back to work right about in five minutes though."

The rest of them groaned.

During her whole shift, Anne dared not to even speak a single thing to him. She pondered, however, on what dark things he may have been keeping to himself that made him go all icy on her. He was such a complex man that she could barely come to understand him.

Work had plenty to keep her busy, it filled in the gaps between service and thinking about Loki. There were a lot of new faces, for sure. What was with the sudden influx of visitors, she really didn't know. Anne honestly didn't care, either. She was too busy thinking of another person who so happened to have an issue with being 'fair'.

A face she didn't recognize grabbed her attention greedily, still.

And lucky for her, this new visitor sat down on one of the tables assigned to her. So doing her best on putting on a smile, she approached the table.

Anne got a better view of him then. He looked like he was in his mid thirties; with slightly tussled by the wind, slightly combed yellow, amber hair on his head. He was her height, she guessed, and wore a simple gray but incredibly finely tailored suit with the crispest, elegant white button-up underneath and a symmetrically spotted crimson tie.

"Good afternoon," She greeted with a cheery tone that she honestly did her best in mustering, "Can I get you anything?"

He beamed right after. Merlin, he could have been as stunning as Loki was with the pearly white teeth and the dimples. He was a grown man with dimples, and made it work. What was this wizardry?

"Well, yes, but I'm unfamiliar with this place, so what'd you recommend?" His voice had this delicious accent to it—she couldn't distinguish. It had its intonation—like Loki's had too—wait, he was asking her a question.

Curse her for trying to gauge out all the scrumptious details in one go like she had with Loki. She thought for a moment, before giving him an answer. Hopefully it was acceptable. "The pastries are to die for—no kidding there—and if it's something warm for to drink, I'd think any brew of coffee's good."

"Ah—thank you then." He flashed a grin at her before turning his attention back to the menu.

Anne took out her notepad and her pencil, ready to jot down anything he wanted. "I'll have the caramel apple scones and a latte." He looked at her, displaying a happy grin on his face. "How about that?"

She smiled placidly. "Sounds pretty good. I'll be back in a few." He gave a little wave and nod, before observing the people around him.

"A looker, huh?" Alice murmured, as Anne stood by her preparing the new-comer's order.

"He's got to be around Martin's age, Alice." Anne shook her head. "Too old."

The platinum blonde returned with the food minutes later. Anne set it on the round turquoise trays they used in the café. "He's yummy, for being old!" She half exclaimed, half squealed in typical Alice behavior.

"Ssh!" Anne had to quiet the girl down, while trying to hold back little laughs of her own. "I didn't know you liked older men, Alice."

Anne left before she could even see Alice fake barfing at her back. She laughed lightheartedly.

She returned to the man with a wider smile than she anticipated. She hope it wouldn't creep the man she just couldn't control it. Hopefully, it was contagious rather than ill placed.

"Come, sit with me." The man patted the seat next to him comfortably, and Anne struggled for words. He was smiling broadly at her, with those dimples. Horrid dimples.

What could she say to him? That she had work and she couldn't go off flirting with a customer? How exactly could she ditch him so easily? If it weren't for the fact that she was on her shift right then, she would have done it…she supposed…

"Oh, come on. I don't bite." He sent a sly grin her way. It sent tingles up her spine.

She sputtered. "I…have work to do, unfortunately." Anne confided quietly, while setting his orders down carefully.

"I'm sure Martin wouldn't mind, now would he?" He asked, with a curious inclination of his head. How did _he_ know her boss again?

"Wait—"

He smiled, and gave a little "Sssh," with a finger to his lips. "Now, sit."

Anne sat down next to him, as he ate the scones, unsure of what to do. She watched him curiously, as he drank a sip of his coffee before turning back to her.

"Tell me," He smiled with his dimples and her heart fluttered. "Does Martin do a good job of running this café?"

Still baffled by his handsomeness and his knowledge of her boss, she answered with a slightly put-off look quietly, "He does. A fine job, actually."

The man smiled, and ate a bite of his scones again. "Good man, Martin." Then he looked startled with himself, Anne raised a brow. He was almost as impulsive as Loki.

Speaking of which, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to where Loki sat. He was looking somewhere else. She sighed, and turned her head over to the man, who was smiling again.

"I forget to introduce myself at all times," He said with a remarkable warmness in his tone, "Hans Craws. You are?"

She returned the smile. "Anne."

"You don't think we should be on first name and last name basis?" His tone was teasing. It made her heart weaken.

But before she could answer him, Martin was already out a door and approaching them. "Ah! Hans! It's been a while."

Hans only simmered his smile down a little, and addressed Martin openly but all before a quick wink at her. "Too long, Martin. Too long."

"So you've already started flirting with my waitresses, eh?" Martin took a seat beside Anne, making her sit in the middle of them uncomfortably. She shifted in her seat a little and gave her boss an awkward smile.

"Introductions, Martin. You wouldn't have minded."

"And I don't," Her boss just had a knowing smile, looking between her and Hans sitting next to her.

"Well, I should really get back to work." Anne awkwardly placed, with her hands curling at her lap, as desperate as ever to leave the scrutiny of two, grown men.

"But of course. I shouldn't be keeping you," Hans stood up and offered his hand to help her out the seat, which she quietly took. He pressed his lips to her knuckles, the tender feel of his lips on her soft skin sending an incredible jolt of electricity through her.

What a man. He must have been nearly eight years her superior. She coloured immediately. "I hope to be seeing more of you soon, Miss…"

"Weller," She breathlessly supplied. What an old fashioned gent.

"Miss. Weller then. I honestly do. And soon, very _soon_." And he dropped her hand slowly, with a big grin upon his lips. Anne began to breathe again; he sat down with Martin (who had a grin on his face).

"…I do believe so as well, mister Craws." She left without another word. She approached Loki's table clumsily, not believing what had just transpired. She sat down, not noticing his piercing stare. At. All.

"Anne?" His voice called, and she snapped herself from her dreamlike haze. Anne gazed into his eyes, and he slightly curious as to what made her seem so…unpredictable, all of a sudden. He looked to where the direction of her tipsy entrance was, leading him straight to the steely gray eyes of Hans Craws himself.

The man merely nodded his way, before turning back to that boss of hers.

"So, have you gotten over your mood yet?" She called out quietly, staring out the window, hesitant to meet his eyes.

To her great surprise, Loki only gave a "yes." and a nod. A simple nod. No biting remark. No sarcastic response.

Anne cocked her head towards him. "You sure about that?"

"Quite." Was the response. She was happy that he could talk with little hate towards her right then.

Loki started his observations again. He now noticed the white of her skin better. The sharp look in her eyes when she stared right at him. The contrast of her ebony hair and the ivory color of her face.

They were caught in an intense stare down, none wanting to back down just yet and end their comprehensive examination of each other.

Anne gave in first. She started blinking rapidly, before focusing her eyes right on her subject. "You know, you never told me about what happened between you and your family."

That visibly struck a chord. She toned down the curiosity in her next statement and pleaded, "Please. I just really want to know."

Loki sighed. He might as well tell. She would obviously never stop asking him, but the topic itself made him cringe on the inside. He didn't like talking about his 'family'. About Thor. About Frigga. About the Allfather. About his banishment.

"I'll tell you all I can about mine," She offered, after seeing the contemplative look on his face. "Or, you can ask all you want about me too."

He took her up on that, if just to find out more about her. It was _strange_, being genuinely interested in a mortal. "I'll answer your questions."

Anne looked very marginally happy to know more about the dispute between him, a jotun, and the royalty of Asgard.

"How did it start?"

"My brother was…disowned, you could say."

"So, he's out on his own too?"

"No."

"Care to explain?"

"He did something that wasn't in the best interest for some."

"Oh..."

"I did my best in lessening the damage and to an extent, cease it, while trying to rebuild at the same time."

Anne gulped. She could feel it. He was about to drop the bomb, but all she could see written on his face was little to no emotion.

"I was banished, Thor returned to his position." The name of the god of thunder was tasteless to him. Anne looked genuinely stunned. He didn't talk with hatred, or with bitterness. He was plainly just stoic. She didn't notice the very miniscule and trace amount of sadness in his voice.

"Then you found me, and here I am." He looked at her with his calculating look. Anne couldn't exactly tell what it was for. He was most probably trying to gauge her reaction, which in turn, wasn't really that…reactive? There was a lack of reaction on her side, basically.

She didn't know how to react to his story. She felt herself growing hotter, with him focusing on her face, her worthy of a plain-Jane face.

"I'd like to know more about you." Loki murmured, still looking at her with his intense gaze. She nodded.

"Alright, what would you like to know?"

"How is it you came to be here?"

There was a moment of silence. "I'm taking a break off things. I used to have a very different life to this." Anne replied quietly.

Loki wasn't disturbed by the fact that she didn't include any special details. He just genuinely wanted to know more about this mortal than ever. "Break off of what?"

"Work. Tiring work. More work than you could ever imagine. I desperately wanted to escape that, so I saved up my money and moved here."

His ears perked at learning of her desperation. He couldn't imagine her, looking desperate and what might have been terrified—or any other drastic emotion. "Are you…content?"

She sighed. "It depends on exactly the things you ask that I'm content with."

"Tell me the things you are, then."

Anne seemed distant for a moment. She replied later, with a voice so quiet, it was almost a whisper. "My job. My home. The things I know. The people I know."

His stare lessened in intensity at her quietness, the openness she had whence sharing things of her past. "And the things you are not?"

"People I don't know. Things I've never ever known…I never thought about it, really." He examined her. She was so quiet and so definite. She was so sensible. She could give answers to his questions in few moments, when with others it required long moments of deep thinking. She was truly intelligent in his eyes.

Then Loki felt this sudden thing, foreign to his old set of emotions. He stared at the woman in front of him. If it weren't for the fact that mortals only believed in things that had been predefined for them—if they just didn't refuse the things that were defined as impossible in her realm.

"Is Thor your brother?" She asked with her quiet tone still in use. Loki blinked, before casting his eyes down for a brief moment—looking up at her again, with masked indifference.

"Yes."

Anne gave him a very, very small look of curiosity. "They must have had a thing for norse mythology then, did they?" She said in a feeble attempt to lift the somewhat sad mood.

He was somewhat amused by her remark, knowing that she was referring to the Allfather and Frigga. "Very." He smiled a small, ironic smile at her. There was still so much to him she didn't know.

Taking this motion as a good sign, Anne continued while staring distantly out the window. "Loki." His name rolled off the tip of her tongue with that same, quiet voice that had this distinct articulation as if she were reading a passage off a book. "I always thought it was a cool name."

"He's the god of mischief, right?" He watched her ramble with mild amusement. He nodded.

"Huh. I wonder." Loki looked at her with a brow raised. "Where are you from?"

He looked at her. "Norway." It was a country where the Norse gods were once praised, as he read in the book he had borrowed from her before.

"Well that kind of explains it…"

"Explain what?" She couldn't have figured it out. He didn't even drop any form of hint, unless he counted the fact he was wearing his armor with cape and all when they first met. He acted confused, but he knew for a fact that this mortal did not know he was Loki Laufeyson, god of mischief, of lies, or trickery.

She looked sharply at him, her eyes filled with realization. She was obviously stunned with whatever she found. "The accent. The name. The way you phrase things. Everything." She was blinking rapidly, and she rubbed quickly at her eyes, unintentionally displacing the glasses that hid the color of her eyes. Those clattered on the table, and he was left staring at her, slightly surprised, that she had cataloged everything he did. Everything about him, and put so much thinking into him.

She wasn't remotely close of course to finding out it _true _identity, but given that display, she _could_ do it.

This was only further motivation to widen the gap between them. Re-distance himself from her, despite his wishes to come closer.

* * *

So close…yet so far. Aww, **please don't kill me for this. **

Anyway—Loki will admit himself of the feelings he holds for Anne in due time. I promise. This has something to do with Hans.

And **speaking of Hans! **This character is a tribute to Hans Landa from the wonderful movie, **Inglorious Basterds **by **Quentin Tarantino**. I really regard him as a great character and enjoyed him so much; I decided to mold him into the story. He looks exactly as Christoph Waltz would, of course. :D His appearance appeals severely to Anne so yes.

I'm undergoing the process of changing some points in this fic like renaming and changing the summary. So please, bear with me, I'll have to edit out stuff in the previous chapters.

**Btw. **I always read the traffic stats for this story, and it's very, very heart warming that people all over the freaking _world _reads it. Fanfiction unites people, like seriously. It's so great and it makes my heart go all fuzzy inside.

Guys, please review. I'd really like some feedback, and I'd like to know what your reactions are. But I obviously won't bother responding if all you're going to write is 'omg please update' or 'fladoodles' or anything. Write something meaningful, if you can haha, I'm super depressed right now lol

_**Thoughts? Comments? Feedback? Grammatical errors? Reactions? Write a review right nao! Hahahaha I love you guys **_

_**Please write me a review! Please!**_


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